Tales of a Mispronounced Latin Spell: Onto Greener Pastures Spin-off
by Trinity103
Summary: It is well-known how faulty wizarding magic can be for those inexperienced or out of practice. These are the many universes which Harry Potter could have ended up in after leaving his world and the (probably very short) lives he lived in each. Warning: each one-shot will contain lots of major character death. Very few Happily Ever After's here.
1. The Traveler's Guide

Full Summary: It is well-known how quirky wizarding magic can behave for those inexperienced or out of practice. These are the many universes which Harry Potter could have ended up in after leaving his world due to one unfortunate syllable change and the (probably very short) lives he lived in each. Warning: each interconnecting one-shot will contain lots of major character death. If Harry doesn't die horribly by at least every other ending, then I haven't done my job; but he should come back‒eventually. Very few Happily Ever After's here.

Author's Note: Unlike in the original, Harry is immortal here; this way he can be killed and I can keep writing. Plot armor deleted. If you have crossover or plot-twist suggestions, leave a review with them. If I know the book/movie/other-verse, I might use it.

Warning: This story contains the humorization of death, as the main character can't actually manage to die and has extended conversations with the personified entity. Speaking with Death, or any other seemingly pleasant voice that tries to start a conversation in your mind, is not advisable, and we do not endorse such actions here. We only advocate the four R's: read, review, re-read, run-to-tell-your-friends-to-read. Thank you.

The story begins with the first chapter of _Onto Greener Pastures and Brighter Skies_ with minor alterations made at the end; the string of adventures will commence directly following this chapter. You don't need to read any more of the other story to understand these one-shots (though of course I would recommend checking it out). Enjoy!

Betaed by laumirot.

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Chapter 1: The Traveler's Guide

Harry sat on the ledge of Gryffindor Tower, intently studying his thumbs as they slowly circled one another, sizing their opponent up, searching for the twitch that would begin their battle to the death. The air was still, dust particles hanging in place, unwilling to interrupt the tense atmosphere of the oncoming duel. Wait! There it is! And here we go-

Heaving out a sigh, Harry flopped down on his back, flinging his arms over his eyes. At first his inner banter was a fun distraction from his situation, but now it was getting tedious and just a tad bit pathetic. Although, now that all the bodies had been buried (the Death Eaters were all burned with a convenient _fiendfyre,_ and Lord Voldy had a special little memorial as the carnivorous-charmed Cornish Pixies devoured his flesh) and Hogwarts had been fixed up, there wasn't much else to do other than twiddle one's thumbs as suicidal thoughts ran their creative course through one's mind.

Ever since the battle at Hogwarts took place, the war had been going downhill for the light side. Harry had been able to fire a severing hex at Voldemort's head, but with Nagini, the final horcrux, still alive, the Dark Lord was able to apparate away and the battle ended as a destructive draw. The single battle had been nearly as devastating as the entirety of the first war against Voldemort. Many great wizards were lost, including Remus Lupin, Harry's last friendly tie to his parents, Remus's wife, Tonks, and George's twin, Fred.

Anyone who openly opposed the Dark Lord was targeted, along with their families, and as their supporters dropping like flies, the Order of the Phoenix experienced a severe drop in moral. The light side's reluctance to kill led to ten Death Eaters being broken out of Azkaban for every single one the Aurors captured, while dozens of light wizards were murdered in battle, their families killed in raids. Without Dumbledore to lead them, the light side looked to their last beacon of hope: a seventeen year old boy, busy grieving his own losses.

It wasn't until the death of one of Harry's closest friends, Hermione Granger, that he snapped out of his own head and decided to end the war at any cost. The sight of his best friend, the smartest witch in her year at Hogwarts, the epitome of grace and intelligence, lying on a cot in the Hospital Wing, minus two limbs and a heartbeat, gave Harry the perspective he needed to become serious.

He, Ron and Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood began training with the best Aurors left, including Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Harry started to read the numerous books in the Black Library, given to him by his godfather, Sirius Black, in his will. Harry even briefly traveled to Japan to be taught by a master swordsman, Sensei Kenshi, determined to fully prepare himself before facing Voldemort again.

He returned to an Order half the size that he had left it.

Inevitably, the wizards' fighting leaked into the muggle world, and the leftover cold war paranoia led to the realization of MAD. The United States and Russia managed to blow the world up, with only the pockets of protected wizard society remaining untouched, but not unaffected. The surviving wizards, realizing too late the immense power of muggles, flocked to the light side, seeking a nonexistent undo button. The Dark Lord, left with only his snake and a rat, was practically defenseless in the Malfoy Manor, and it was far too easy for Harry to put a bullet in between the eyes of the madman who had caused the literal end of the world.

The death of the world caused the magic to drain out of the environment and the remaining wizards, leading them to a slow, painful demise. All, of course, except The Boy-Who-Lived. All of Harry's friends besides Luna had been out in muggle society, trying to defend the civilians against the pillaging Death Eaters when the atomic bombs had detonated, sweeping the wizards away with their fiery waves along with the billions of others taken. Only Harry remained, nursing the last of the survivors as the life was ripped from their bodies, cursing Voldemort for shooting an Avada Kedavra at him, and himself for having all three of the Deathly Hallows on him at the time. Evidently, the objects were not just a children's story to warn against foolish greed. Dying in the possession of the Deathly Hallows truly did grant the holder the title of the Master of Death, along with the immortality that comes with such a hefty title.

' _And to think',_ Harry thought, a bitter smile twisting his lips, ' _the one thing that Voldemort feared, Death, could have granted him his one greatest wish'._ Harry sighed as he got up, removing his arms from their iron grip around his head. Instead, the stupid git had to give his dream to his enemy, possibly the only person who truly abhorred the thought of never being able to die, to forever be denied to chance to see his parents in the afterlife. ' _Oh well.'_

Harry flipped up from his position, abandoning his useless thoughts of taking a flying leap, knowing from experience that it was a futile endeavor. Swiftly walking down the corridors to the Headmaster's office, Harry pointedly avoided looking at the Hospital Wing, Luna's death only two weeks ago still too fresh in his mind. The loss of the last living human on the planet had hit him even harder than he thought it would have, considering Luna had held on for thirty two years after the destruction, twenty five years longer than anyone else, just to "help keep the nargles away", according to her. She had kept Harry sane, brightening his day with her wondrous fairy tales and even playing Quidditch with him, despite her lack of interest in the game. Sometimes they would just fly together, leaving their troubles hundreds of feet below. Even when she became too weak to leave her bed, Luna still took care of him; together they doodled in muggle children's coloring books and sang nursery rhymes to pass the time.

A smile ghosted over Harry's face at the memory, his eyes briefly flashing in amusement before he refocused, briskening his walk. Harry bypassed the silent gargoyles standing guard before the Headmaster's old office. Harry had done his best to reconstruct the castle to how it was before it had been demolished in the Battle of Hogwarts, but the magic had long ago left the ancient stone walls. The stair cases no long shifted according to their fancy, the ceiling of the Great Hall lost its enchantment to appear as the night sky, and the paintings had ceased to move and talk, the spirits of the portrayed wizards extinguished along with everything else.

Once he reached the dusty room, Harry abruptly stopped. With a quick flick of the Elder Wand, the grand office was restored to its former glory, Dumbledore's knickknacks twinkling on the shelves in resemblance to the late Headmaster's eyes.

"Kreacher!" Harry barked out sharply. Out of all of the brave house elves that died in battle along with their masters, the miserable elf of the Black family was the only to survive due to his tie to Harry. He had considered breaking their bond and allowing the creature to join his precious mistress in the afterlife, but Harry couldn't bring himself to get rid of the last source of company he had, no matter how unpleasant. Although, soon that would no longer be an issue.

Years ago, when Harry had been going through the Headmaster's office, which was the last room he had repaired due to the memories it held of his beloved departed mentor, he had stumbled upon an old book titled _The Traveler's Guide: A Getaway For The Terminally Bored Witch Or Wizard_.

On the first page, an incantation was written that would apparently transport the caster to another world, though its name wasn't mentioned anywhere. The book held several maps, journal entries of previous users (including Dumbledore himself) a list of the various creatures inhabiting the planet (he would have to avoid the goblins; they were evidently even more nasty than in his world), and even a dictionary of the most widely spoken languages.

Kreacher popped beside Harry, the ever present grimace deepening on his face at the sight of his half-blood master. "Yes, _Sir_ ," the house elf spat out.

Harry ignored the nasty attitude. "I need you to bring me my trunk." He had packed all of his belongings (his battle armor, the shards of his old wand, his parent's photo album, the Sword of Gryffindor, a modified golden snitch, and a picture of him and Dumbledore's Army from sixth year) the day after Luna's death and had only been waiting to gather the courage to leave his one true home, Hogwarts.

As soon as Kreacher returned, Harry grabbed his trunk, set it down by his feet, and turned to face the miserable house elf.

"Kreacher, as your master and the last head of the most Ancient and Noble House of Black, I officially release you from all of your duties to the family and myself." Harry pulled out an old shirt from the folds of the Invisibility Cloak draped over his shoulders and presented it to the elf.

Fingers trembling, Kreacher took the piece of clothing. With watery eyes, he slowly lifted his head and gave a shocked Harry a watery smile.

"Thank you," Kreacher whispered. His body began glowing as the bond disintegrated between the elf and the wizard. Without a source of magic to keep him alive, Kreacher fell to the ground, his gray skin losing its last hue of life.

Harry sighed. While he despised the creature most of the time, Kreacher had been there for him when Luna died, standing ramrod straight next to him on the side of her death bed, even offering Harry a handkerchief once he pulled himself together somewhat. The little being's passing was sad, but it comforted Harry to know that Kreacher would be happy to reunite with the pureblood family he had served for so long.

With one last look around the room that had been a safe haven to him as a young boy, Harry took a deep breath and picked up the traveler's guide from the impressive desk overlooking the rest of the space. He sat down on his trunk and flipped the cover open.

Harry started to chant the spell, eager to move onto his next great adventure. "De veteribus et novis praeterita mundi morosa lucida mundi futura, est in potentia ad relaxat enim a tempus. Et fordera—wait that isn't right, is it?" A murky grey mist streaked with brown and black manifested around Harry, pulling his attention away from the magical manual. He felt his heart start to pound and realized his mistake once the air around him started to heat rapidly and the fog began to wither in discontentment. "Oh… bollocks. I didn't mean to do that. Or did I? Sorry angry fog. No hard feelings?" The air thickened and roared, swirling around Harry intently.

Closing his eyes, Harry gripped his wand in one hand and his trunk in the other, the Traveler's Guide still open on his lap as the last wizard disappeared from Earth. ' _Oh merciful Merlin, I really hope I don't end up on a planet full of Dementors in the middle of national orgy day'._


	2. Harry Potter x Avengers

Harry Potter x Avengers

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When Aliens Attack and You've Forgotten Your Umbrella

Harry had always considered himself to be fairly atrocious at understanding the signs women sent him. He had once mistaken a come-hither look from a particularly attractive female for a murderous glare and had acted accordingly to the possible threat- "Constant Vigilance", as his retired Auror mentor Mad-Eye Moody used to say. Who knew what she could have been hiding in her voluptuous cleavage.

The red-haired woman currently aiming a gun at his head as she muttered a colorful variety of curses under her breath was making her intentions very clear, and Harry highly doubted he was misreading her signals, though he wished he was. She was nearly as terrifying as a pissed-off Molly Weasley… No, never mind; such a thing was impossible.

"Don't startle me like that kid!" the woman snarled before, much to Harry's relief, pointing her firearm away from him. Then she unloaded a round into… something. Harry finally looked at his surroundings and noted that he was definitely not in his England any more. For one, there were people. And no visible cockroaches. It was a pleasant trade-off. "What the hell are you doing out in the open? Go run for cover. Or die here; doesn't matter to me."

"What am I doing here? … Vacation?" She sounded American, but her accent was too practiced and careful to be natural. Taking in everything around him, an ill feeling settled in Harry's stomach. He had been promised evergreen and crystal water, not metal panels and an assortment of futuristic weaponry found in those crappy telly shows Dudley used to watch setting off a fireworks show in the streets. Maybe he wasn't on Earth anymore, but in an alien spaceship that looked similar to the ones he saw in the films where the heroic main character is abducted, dissected, and left as a cadaver in some desert for scavengers to feast upon. Yeah, that's how the stories went. ' _Oh Merlin, I have to get out of here!'_

"Run for cover?" Harry repeated to himself again. "Yes, of course; I'll go do that then. Just another innocent bystander citizen hiding during the end of the world; nothing to take notice of here. There is no hero cannon fodder or secondary character-destined-to-be-another-casualty-in-the-background present, sorry, try again tomorrow when my shift ends."

"Why the hell are you still here?"

Harry grinned. "You're a main character, right? Why the bloody hell are _you_ still here?" He received an annoyed look from the redhead as she tossed away her empty cartridge and pulled a new one from some pocket dimension on her skin-tight body suit.

"Do you see those aliens in the sky?" Harry glanced upwards as he was instructed and saw that there were indeed 'aliens' that looked disturbingly like floating steal space whales weaving their way through the monumental buildings. "And the troops on the ground?" Sure enough, Harry spotted several group of Egyptian-robots striding menacingly over the cracked pavement. "Do you know what they are?"

"Skynet's henchmen? Voldy's less ugly, better equipped cousins? The primary antagonist in this episode?"

The Russian cut Harry off before he could get more creative. "That is the Chitauri horde that's pouring through a portal across space to assist a madman in taking over the Earth and enslaving humanity."

Blinking rapidly, Harry rocked back on his heels and whistled, suitably impressed. "Haven't heard that one before. But, if that's the case," Harry frowned, "Why are you standing here explaining the plot to me when you should be fighting or whatever. This sure seems like climax time to me."

"I…" She trailed off. With an irritated growl, the women twirled around and stalked off.

"She goes into unnecessary detail about the main conflict, but doesn't even introduce herself. This is definitely America," Harry concluded. A large, red and gold human-shaped pile of shrapnel suddenly fell next to him, leaving a large dent in the concrete beneath it. Harry jumped slightly at the impact and brandished his wand and sword, then stared down at the debris curiously.

"What exactly are those 'Chitauri' firing at people? Looks like one of the more eccentric suits of armor Dumbledore keeps in his study."

"Yeah, well you aren't too much to look at either. Really, a sword and a stick? You're at the wrong fight, buddy," the armor snarked back at him. It tried to get back up, but was then pushed back several meters by a blast of green light, lodging its metal body even further into the concrete.

"Hmm, a Piertotum Locomotor spell gone wrong maybe? I never seen an animated object develop a sense of self either. Hermione would have been thrilled to be able to study such a specimen," Harry mused, still staring at the flailing android. He felt a curiously electrifying presence approach behind him and turned around. Floating down from the sky was a figure that Harry guessed most comic book supervillains tried to emulate; or maybe he was trying to emulate them. Either way, the slicked back, long black hair, ridiculous cape, and frankly embarrassing horns jutting from his head had Harry internally warring between readying his sword and relaxing into a conjured lawn chair with a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

The villain-esque man lowered himself towards the groaning scrap metal and began laughing in a way that laughter isn't supposed to sound like. "Had enough, tiny human? Where are your so-called _Avengers_ now? Oh, that's right; off fighting against an endless army they can't defeat in a desperate attempt at salvaging a world not worth the endeavor. Freedom is almost upon us; a freedom from choice. I just pity the fact that none of your fellow _heroes_ will be here to witness your death." He put the glowing blue scepter against the armor's chest plate. "Any final prayers?"

"Too… many… words… no one cares about. Dying… of… boredom." The red hand laying at the metal man's side suddenly flipped supine and a jet of power surged up into the black-haired man's face, blasting him up and back.

"Thanks for letting me recharge, Ye God of Stereotypical Villain Chatter. Our little bantering sessions are always the highlight of my day."

"Oh." The horned man's words finally made what his magic had been trying to tell him click in Harry's mind. "There's a _person_ inside of the metal encasing. I was wonder why that guy was making such a big deal about wasting a chunk of metal. Hmm, I wonder if I should maybe help…"

"Uh, kid?" Harry glanced at the metal- ' _man, it's definitely a man, despite the packaging'._ "Yeah, hi. So, can you possibly run away now? Seriously, we need to keep casualties at a minimum, so… skedaddle. Shoo."

Harry looked around again, and then took a closer look at the patch of cement next to him. With a determined nod, he took a step to his right. "Is this enough shooing? Is shooing the correct verb? It doesn't sound right. How would you spell it?"

"Uh, that's… not what I meant," the man started. He quickly shook his head. "Ah, screw it. If you get injured or killed, just send the hospital and/or burial bills to Stark Industries. Fury is probably already going to make my company fund this stupid project; might as well try and make the cash dry up quicker. You ever dreamed of spending eternity in a golden sarcophagus? Damn, this is starting to feel like a concussion."

"S-h-o-o-ing? Is there not an e, then? Poor e; so left out. I hope he wasn't bullied as a child. Maybe the Alphabet Agency Luna told me about would consider adoption…" Harry started wondering away, his curiosity with the not-metal man sated and a new mystery, and possible rescue mission, occupying him.

"What do you think?" But when Harry turned back around, only a crater in the ground greeted him. "Oh, right. That guy is probably another main character, since he was fighting what looked to be the main supervillain, so he must have other things to do than ponder e's safety."

"Supervillain? Oh yes, I think I like that. Although I was thinking for along the lines of 'Supreme Overlord', or something of that ilk, after I conquer Earth." The horned man was back, apparently, and stood on an upturned car before Harry.

"High goals," Harry noted, thinking, ' _I don't care if this is another Voldemort, it's not my problem, hero complex is over, definitely don't want to fight, your wand and sword are contradicting that, Harry, put down the wand and sword, Harry, why aren't you doing it?'_

"But first," the man smirked, jumping from the car and slowly stepping towards Harry, "I'm going to make sure the little men playing at greatness understand the extent of my power. And I'll start off by personally killing off every. Single. Person they've come into contact with. Starting with you."

Harry stared impassively at the now identified megalomaniac. "That's not a very nice thing to aspire to. You don't deserve that pretty glowing staff. _Expelliarmus._ " He sheath his sword, freeing a hand to catch the man's weapon as it flew towards him.

The man gaped at Harry for a moment before his eyes narrowed. "I am Loki, a god and future ruler of Midgard. You shall return the tesseract to me this instant."

"I don't wanna."

"Insolence!"

"Don't feel so bad about losing this little old thing," Harry grinned, waving the scepter. "Real warlocks don't need to emphasize or _embellish_ anything".

Loki glared back. "The tesseract is a noble weapon, far more impressive than your pathetic twig of a prop."

Harry pouted, glancing down at the Elder Wand. "That's rude." Thoroughly insulted, he did the most mature act he could think of. He took the staff in both hands, snapped it in two over his leg, and sprinted down the street, laughing at the scream of anger and anguish following him. That Loki character had it coming.

Over the next hour, Harry found shelter in an abandoned pastry shop that seemed mostly intact. Luckily, the kettle was still functional, so he picked out an interesting tea bag—Organic Serenity SuperGreen—and sat back in a plush chair, determined to wait out the action. He could just apparate to England and search for the Wizarding World, but honestly, this place had already given him more excitement than he'd experienced in the last forty years. He could learn to like it here, once everyone stopped trying to kill one another.

Once the commotion outside seemed to start settling down, Harry set his cooled tea on a table and made his way out of the shattered front doors. He walked onto the sidewalk, and then out into the street when it was clear nobody was nearby.

"Hullo? Anyone still alive?"

A low whistling caught Harry's attention. He looked up and saw a tiny green man falling from the sky above him. The green man was becoming progressively bigger, and Harry was so distracted by the familiar robot-human in its arms that he failed to notice he was in the center of the shadow the green man was forming in his trek down to earth.

"Oh, wow," Harry wondered in awe. "I don't remember seeing that in any of the films."

A man dressed in the American flag, Robin Hood, a super buff Roman, and the scary-hot Russian lady turned the corner in time to see their two friends land.

"Kid, watch out!"

"Move!"

" _Splat."_

* * *

Silence. Harry was surrounded by complete and utter silence. It was peaceful, stress-free, white, and… boring. Quiet that leaves one alone with their thoughts is entirely meaningless when one doesn't know what to think about. ' _Maybe I can consider the origin of this 'one', and why he thinks he is good enough for everyone to talk about all the time. Who does he think he is, Merlin? Oh… perhaps-'_

"Considering most of human history catalogs Merlin along with unicorns and leprechauns that are actually stupid enough to hide their savings accounts at the end of rainbows in the 'make believe' aisles begs the answer that, no, the universal 'one' does not refer to the wizard that makes an appearance in so many wizardly obscenities. Anything else catch your fancy before we begin?"

Harry floated in the silence for a few seconds, then decided, "Yep, I was definitely talking inside my head. Is there no privacy left?" Feeling his wand in his hand, Harry sent a stupefy in the direction of the voice, which he couldn't face because gravity was evidently taking a vacation too and no amount of flailing turned him around. When his attack was met with a low chuckle, Harry sighed and relaxed, waiting for the slow spinning motion his body was naturally doing to allow him to face the jerk who read his mind.

"I didn't read your mind, Harry; I'm in your mind. Oh, there is no need for such an unpleasant face. I'm everywhere, and your mind just happens to fall into that category."

"And who are you, exactly?"

"We'll get to that in a moment. For now, why don't we start off with a little story?"

Harry gave up trying to catch sight of the man talking and sighed in resignation. "I'm listening. And by that, I mean I can't do anything but listen. And breathe. And come up with new curses that start, end, or are solely composed of 'Merlin'."

* * *

End Author's Note: When a Hulk is landing, always check for clearance first.

Please comment with suggestions for future crossovers!


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